


Knelt in Prayer

by snowflakesuccubus



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Porn with Feelings, Power Dynamics, Praise Kink, Spanking, this was supposed to be self-indulgent smut but emotions happened and i’m sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 12:25:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18620596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowflakesuccubus/pseuds/snowflakesuccubus
Summary: Keeah Siannodel lives with a lock around her heart, but Sarenrae holds the key.





	Knelt in Prayer

It is a while before Keeah can fall asleep.   
  
After the revelations of the past few days, the knowledge of an ancient, dormant god that hungers and yearns to wake and the clashes with said god’s cultists, one would hope to be tired enough to slip into the dreaming dark without an issue. The eclipse festival had been a much-needed reprieve, a chance to breathe before she, her brother, and their new companion—the ranger—chased after the looming cosmic threat. And now, the last true night of rest before the long journey ahead.   
  
But she can’t seem to sleep, and she never took to the usual elven custom of trance, so instead she lies awake, staring at the inn room ceiling and trying not to wake Althea with her quiet tears.   
  
Two days ago, she had killed someone. Not directly, not with her blade—though it had wounded several other cultists of Torment quite soundly—but with holy magic, pure divine retribution condensed into a flash of blinding energy. The cultist was dead before he hit the ground, his dagger still slick with the ranger’s blood.   
  
The memory of it makes Keeah want to throw up.   
  
When she swore her paladin’s oath, she had thought herself remade. Cleansed of the horrors of the caverns below, born anew as an elf who is not defined by her heritage.   
  
Clearly she was wrong. She’s just as much a monster now as she was then in the Underdark, surrounded and molded by her bloodthirsty kin who have no compunctions over human sacrifice. A horrible truth proven by how easily she had regressed, slipped on the mask of a killer and worn it like a second skin.   
  
She hadn’t  _ felt _ like herself. It had been almost like watching from the outside, forced to look on in terror as the true drow within emerged and wielded Keeah’s sword and magic alike with a ruthless hand.   
  
_ But it  _ was  _ you,  _ she reminds herself.  _ You still killed him. _

  
If the moon were visible tonight, it would be high among the stars before Keeah finally drifted into unconsciousness.   
  
She opens her eyes to an impossibly blue, cloudless sky.   
  
Grass tickles at the insides of her knees and the soles of her feet as she sits up, taking in the beauty of her goddess’s garden, just for a moment before she sets to work on the hedge maze. She breathes deeply, smelling fragrant flowers, the rich earth, and crisp breeze, each scent stronger and clearer than they ever could be in the waking world. It brings a welcome smile to her face, weary as she is, and finally she stands up, brushing dirt off her white dress, and she begins walking.   
  
The maze is never easy, and if she were younger and more prone to the feeling, she might find herself frustrated. But she knows her Lady better than to suspect the challenge impossible. She is grateful for the puzzle, something for her restless brain to distract itself with for a little while, and she is almost disappointed when she makes her way out of it.   
  
Almost.   
  
Sarenrae—her goddess, her Lady, her best friend—waits for her in the center of the garden, illuminating the entire realm on Her own but never casting radiance bright enough to blind. Her warm brown skin shines in Her own light, glowing golden hair framing an easy smile. Her wings flutter, invitingly, and Keeah runs the short distance into Her waiting arms.   
  
“You’re late,” the goddess teases, but as She pulls back, concern furrows Her brow. “My dear, what is wrong?”   
  
“Everything,” Keeah manages weakly, and that is all she can say before she bursts into tears.   
  
Through her sobs, she tells Sarenrae all, everything She missed in the past month and everything Keeah has been burdened with in the past two days. She recounts meeting the ranger, and the battle with Torment’s cultists, where Keeah had shattered the sanctity of her oath in the space of a heartbeat.   
  
“I just—“ she takes a ragged breath, clutching at her hair. “I thought I was okay. I thought I was _good,_ and then—“ she’s wracked with a fresh bout of tears. “Then I ruined it all.”   
  
“Oh, my sweet.” Sarenrae pulls Keeah into her embrace again. Holds her, far gentler than Keeah deserves. “You walk the path of redemption, Keeah. It is not a door that is open and shut and you are instantly whole. You must collect your pieces from the cobblestones, one by one as you walk ever on.”   
  
Keeah hesitantly looks up to meet Sarenrae’s gaze, and She continues.   
  
“It is okay if you slow, or stop walking entirely. It is okay if you take steps backward. As long as you remain steady in your path forward, you are good.”   
  
“I don’t think that’s how the other elves will see it,” Keeah mumbles, wiping at her eyes.   
  
“Then hear this,” Sarenrae says, taking both of Keeah’s hands in Hers. “No matter how cruelly the world treats you, I promise that you will only ever receive kindness from me.”   
  
“I—“ Keeah’s voice sticks in her throat, her hands curling tight around Sarenrae’s. “What if—what if I don’t want that?”   
  
There’s a pause, where Sarenrae considers her words. Then She looks Keeah in the face.   
  
“What  _ do _ you want me to do, darling?”   
  
“Hurt me,” Keeah finally spits out, and already shame is pricking liquid hot at the corners of her eyes but there’s no judgment in Sarenrae’s gaze. “My Lady, I—I don’t—“   
  
“...you do not feel that you have earned kindness,” Sarenrae finishes for her. Keeah can only nod in confirmation. Sarenrae cups Keeah’s face, stroking it gently. “My sweet, you have already served your penance. You are already forgiven.”   
  
“I know, but—“ and suddenly where guilt had caused her to choke on the words, now they’re tumbling from her lips in a rush, “that didn’t—it doesn’t count, not really, I—I wasn’t  _ punished _ . I wasn’t punished for it.”   
  
Sarenrae clucks Her tongue, pulls Keeah into another hug, presses a kiss to her forehead. “I understand,” she murmurs into Keeah’s hair. “It’s alright. Thank you for telling me, darling.”   
  
“I just. I feel  _ wrong,” _ Keeah says. ”No amount of vigils can make up for what I did.”   
  
“So you want me to punish you?”   
  
Spoken by any other, the words could have been condescending, disgusted, but on Sarenrae’s lips they are only asking confirmation. Keeah is endlessly thankful.   
  
“Yes.”  _ It’s what I deserve. _ “Please.”   
  
Sarenrae holds Keeah’s face in both hands now, and kisses her forehead again, warm and lingering. After a moment She releases Keeah and stands, and Keeah moves to do the same, but a firm hand on her shoulder stops her.   
  
“Stay on your knees, darling.”   
  
Even through the cloud of grief and guilt in her mind, Keeah’s traitor heart manages to skip a beat or two at the words. A shudder goes through her, a brief intrusive reminder of what other contexts She could have said them in. Her eyes flutter shut, and she maneuvers herself into the right position with Sarenrae’s gentle guidance.   
  
“Where?”   
  
Confused, Keeah looks up at her Lady. “What?”   
  
“Where do you want me to hurt you, Keeah?”   
  
Keeah considers, hesitates—the other times she’s been in this scenario, almost a decade or more ago now, it had been at the tongue of the High Priestess‘s crop, the sting leaving her unable to walk right for a week. The thought is comforting, in the worst way, but Keeah muscles past the shame and tells Sarenrae where.   
  
“Very well.”   
  
Sarenrae steps around behind her and kneels as well, and the closeness makes Keeah shiver again. Then She presses a gentle hand to Keeah’s back, and her hand is so, so warm even through the fabric of Keeah’s dress.   
  
“I am going to take this off now, alright?”   
  
Sarenrae’s voice is low, and there’s something to it that Keeah’s never heard from Her before. From her years in the cult, Keeah had developed the idea of deities as strict, demanding entities. Sarenrae has always defied her expectations at every turn, but here there is a note of command, even as Sarenrae’s words are kind. Here, She is asking obeisance.   
  
There’s nothing else Keeah would give to Her so freely.   
  
Keeah manages a shaky nod in answer to Her question and raises her arms. Sarenrae slips the dress off of her, and just like that she’s bare. Anticipation floods her brain and she forces her breathing to remain steady.   
  
Sarenrae’s touch brushes against Keeah’s bare spine, now, warm skin against skin. Keeah shuts her eyes against the sensation—she can’t let herself enjoy this. It’s punishment, penance for her acts of evil. It  _ can’t _ become pleasure.   
  
“Do you want me to bind your arms, darling?”   
  
When the words process, Keeah jerks her head in a sharp nod. Almost as soon as she does, Sarenrae’s hands are at Keeah’s wrists, pulling a smooth silk rope around her forearms and connecting them behind her back. Keeah is silently grateful for the malleable nature of the dream-realm, and takes a steadying breath. Soon, the restraints are expertly secured, and when Keeah twists her arms to test the knotwork, there’s just enough give before the rope goes taut, and oh,  _ fuck, _ the tension when it does is  _ perfect. _ Keeah swallows a whimper, mentally chastising herself.   
  
_ I don’t deserve to enjoy this. _

  
“Will this do?”   
  
Sarenrae’s soft voice emanates from just over Keeah’s shoulder, her breath hitting the tip of Keeah’s ear. Keeah’s own breath leaves her in a startled rush, but somehow she holds her body still. She turns minutely to look back at her Lady, to respond that the ropes are good, to say  _ something, _ but her gaze is caught by the smooth leather riding crop that Sarenrae is holding out to Keeah’s right. Keeah swallows hard at the sight, the reality of what’s about to happen fully setting in.   
  
“Y-yes. Yes, my Lady.”   
  
“Good.”   
  
The goddess moves back to her position behind Keeah, and Keeah braces herself for an impact, but instead she feels a soft stroke over a spot of her skin between the ropes, and she can’t suppress the sound from the back of her throat. Embarrassment trickles like ice down her spine, and before she can apologize, she hears a whistle of air from behind her.   
  
_ Thwack. _ __  
  


The first hit lands sharp and square on her ass, and Keeah’s hips snap forward in surprise as she gasps. A fraction of a second later, the stinging pain ripples through her, and she bows her head while she tries to catch her breath. Sarenrae waits patiently until she has recovered, letting Keeah adjust to the echoes of sensation, before she speaks again.   
  
“How many more?”   
  
“F-forty-six,” Keeah grates out between clenched teeth. “One for every life.”   
  
Sarenrae hums her assent, and the second strike comes just as swiftly, to the other cheek this time. Even as the pain lances through her, there’s a thick, cloying heat that builds beneath her skin where the blood runs hot, settling into her gut. Something that Keeah doesn’t dare put a name to for fear of ruining whatever is left of the precarious balance that is her friendship with Sarenrae.   
  
“Count them.”   
  
Keeah gasps, blinks hard against the sticky haze that had settled over her thoughts, and manages to stutter out, “th-that’s two.”   
  
_ Thwack. _ “Three.”   
  
_ Thwack. _ “Four.”   
  
With each strike and each spoken number, the coil of chains over her heart rattles and loosens, letting Keeah breathe a little deeper, unwinding the tension in her muscles by degrees. The ropes hold her steady and unyielding as she trembles, trying not to let any sound escape her save her ragged breaths and counting.   
  
_ Thwack _ . “Ten,” she coughs out, her entire body uncomfortably hot, the pain having radiated out from the source to a dull throb everywhere. She struggles to focus on anything else—the grass under her knees, the sky above, the flowers in the hedges—but it’s all a blur. The garden spins around her as she breathes and aches.   
  
Keeah feels a hand comb through her hair, a soft voice at her ear. “You’re doing so well, Keeah.”   
  
The praise drips down her spine to her core and she whimpers, brokenly, amid her stuttered gasps. Sarenrae doesn’t seem to react, gently working out the tangles and occasionally dragging her nails against Keeah’s scalp. The touch is light, but Keeah’s heart claws it it, a lonesome animal desperate for attention.   
  
“Now the next ten.”   
  
Keeah takes a deep breath and braces.   
  
They fall into a rhythm soon enough, and it could almost become mindless if not for that coiling heat in her belly, a fire smoldering low but stoked with every hit. All of Keeah’s willpower is dedicated to keeping her voice steady and clear as she counts, fighting the sighs and half-moans burbling up in her throat. She hates herself for them, hates how quickly she has twisted this situation from rightful penance into something awful, something desecrated. Hates that she’s wet, that the pain is shot through with pleasure and Sarenrae’s warm voice murmuring praise and encouragement only makes it worse.   
  
“F-forty,” she finally gasps, and Sarenrae pauses again at the ten mark, lets Keeah breathe and gives her abused flesh a reprieve. Keeah feels like metal left out in the sun too long, the prickling burn edging out almost every other thought.   
  
...almost. The insides of her thighs are slick with the evidence of her arousal, and Keeah wonders if Sarenrae isn’t acknowledging it to spare Keeah any further embarrassment, or if She is only waiting until afterward to punish her for it.   
  
That second idea shouldn’t be as exciting as it is.   
  
“You’re nearly there, darling,” Sarenrae reminds her, almost as if She could read Keeah’s thoughts. “You’ve been so good.”   
  
Again, the praise strikes a chord deep within her, the part of her that craves to be loved, wanted,  _ needed _ . It’s as if Sarenrae has taken Keeah’s heartstrings in one hand and tugged.   
  
_ Thwack _ . “Forty-one.” Keeah nearly sobs the number, a tightness to her chest that has nothing to do with the stinging pain in her skin or the bonds holding her arms together. She knows she’s on the edge of tears, desperately trying to maintain cognizance enough to count the last six. She’s almost there. She can do this.   
  
_ Thwack _ . “Forty-two.”  _ Thwack _ . “Forty-three.”  _ Thwack _ . “F-forty-four,” she stutters, but manages— “forty-five,” and she’s shaking, grounded only by the ropes— “forty-six,” she breathes, eyes screwed shut. Almost there almost there  _ almost there— _

  
_ Thwack _ and there’s forty-seven, right on the same spot where the first strike had landed, and Keeah gives into her tears as she calls out the number. Almost immediately, Sarenrae’s arms are around her waist in a tight hug. Her body is pressed to Keeah’s back and bound arms, and She is whispering, “you are forgiven,” and Keeah cries and cries and cries until no more tears come.   
  
“I am so proud of you, my sweet,” Sarenrae murmurs, pressing a kiss to Keeah’s sweat-drenched hair. “You did so well.”   
  
Keeah can barely form a  _ thank you  _ as she slumps backwards in her Lady’s embrace. Sarenrae holds her tight but not firm, a gentle reassurance that helps calm Keeah’s racing heartbeat. Keeah would be content to rest in Sarenrae’s arms for all of eternity, guilt and tension both wrung from her body until only peace remains.   
  
Then, a shift.   
  
The goddess strokes lightly over Keeah’s hipbones, and the contact rekindles the flame smoldering low in her core. Keeah can’t help but twitch her hips forward into Sarenrae’s touch, and this time the embarrassment doesn’t come. Only heat, and the contact that stokes it, sharp and electric even as it is gentle.   
  
“I think you deserve a reward now, darling,” Sarenrae husks into Keeah’s ear, warm breath tickling her lobe, and Keeah whines, nods, run too ragged to even question that it‘s actually happening.   
  
Sarenrae’s fingers drift downward as Her kisses trail along Keeah’s face, and Keeah instinctively leans into the touch. Soft lips brush her cheek, her jaw, the crook of her neck, and deft fingers brush the curls between her legs. Keeah’s soaking wet, her pubic hair drenched, and she feels it at the first hesitant touch.   
  
“Yes?” comes the gentle question, and the word has barely left her Lady’s mouth before Keeah is repeating it tenfold.   
  
“Yes, yes,  _ yes _ , my Lady,  _ please—“ _

  
“Shhh.”   
  
Sarenrae’s fingers drift further down, tracing over Keeah’s slick labia, quickly finding her clit and gently circling it. The contact is white-hot, and Keeah jolts, but she is held fast by the rope around her arms and Sarenrae at her back.   
  
“Oh,” and there’s Sarenrae’s voice again, sounding  _ awed _ , like Keeah is something precious, like her pleasure is to be savored, “there you are, darling.”   
  
Keeah can only manage a broken moan as Sarenrae continues to stroke her. She’s closer than she has any right to be, with Sarenrae’s touch expert, as if She’s known Keeah’s body this intimately for years. Keeah’s muscles tense as she grinds against the heel of Sarenrae’s palm, and then she’s lost. Her orgasm sets her alight like a firecracker, pleasure dancing along every nerve and leaving her utterly breathless.   
  
“That’s it,” Sarenrae says, half-kisses into her shoulder, “that’s it, Keeah. Good girl.”   
  
Keeah lets out a keening whine as she continues to ride out her peak, the phrase sending an aftershock through her. She tries, fails to catch her breath, is left gasping in Sarenrae’s gentle hold, still twitching as Sarenrae keeps touching her.   
  
“Can you give me one more, darling?”   
  
Keeah can only obey, the echoes of bliss skyrocketing into a second orgasm, spurred by Sarenrae’s thumb at her clit and two fingers inside of her. Bliss wipes her mind blank, and she only faintly registers the stream of plaintive nonsense and ragged moans that escape her, the frantic rolls of her hips, the sweet words of encouragement and praise in her ear, before everything goes white.   
  
When her vision clears, the bonds around her arms are gone, and she is lying in the grass with her head in Sarenrae’s lap. Her Lady strokes through her hair, hums a tune that Keeah recognizes as an Elvish lullaby.   
  
“My Lady,” she mumbles.   
  
“Hello, dear,” the goddess replies, a broad, loving smile on her lips.   
  
Keeah’s limbs all feel like jelly, and the acute pain from before has settled, now only an ache through her bones. She realizes she’s still naked, but after what just transpired she feels no shame anymore. Her inhibitions seem to have melted away with her guilt, and slowly she reaches a hand up to trail along Sarenrae’s face. To her surprise, the goddess leans into her touch, covering Keeah’s hand with her own. Keeah takes a breath, then speaks again.   
  
“My Lady,” she begins. Pauses.   
  
The title feels off, for the first time in nearly a decade. It doesn’t express enough. It feels... too impersonal.   
  
“Sarenrae,” she tries again, and the goddess’s smile grows.   
  
Keeah closes her eyes, takes a deep breath. Focuses on her pulse, beating slow and steady. Focuses on Sarenrae’s touch. She opens her eyes again, and Sarenrae is still there, still smiling, patient as ever, and Keeah meets that impossibly warm gaze with her own.   
  
“Sarenrae, I love you.”   
  
The goddess laughs, a soft, musical sound. She turns her head and presses a kiss to Keeah’s palm. Holds her close.   
  
“I know, darling.”   
  
And just like that, the last lock of iron slips away from her heart, and finally, she is free.


End file.
